As She Lies Dying
by GrayShoedWonder
Summary: Set during the end of ssn 2 ep 12. What was going through Merlin and Morgana's minds as she died? Were there regrets? Were there memories? Love?
1. Part I: Merlin

**I wrote this right after seeing the season 2 episode in which this takes place. Most I was appalled that Merlin would do that. Then I started crying, and from my tears came this. For those of you who want to know (or care), _Drop of Poison_ is well on its way to completion, and I have information about it and other projects on my profile. For those of you who don't care or don't know what I'm talking about... sorry. You can go read the summary if you want to though! It's all on my profile... I'll stop talking now.**

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><p>AS SHE LIES DYING<p>

PART ONE: MERLIN

It is so easy. Such a simple action. Just moving his arm, fingers, opening the bottle and turning it over into the water skin. He looks down at the black hole of the mouthpiece. It looks no different than before, but he feels that it should, that somehow it will reveal him in his poisonous actions. It looks no different than before – just as innocuous and normal.

He pushes the thoughts from his mind and recorks the skin, self-hatred growing within him. Choosing between Arthur and Morgana was something he had never foreseen having to do, but now that the time is upon him he knows that he will choose Arthur no matter the consequences. It is his duty, he repeats to himself. It does nothing to quell the dread and guilt that build up inside him at what he knows is going to happen.

Before he can convince himself to put the skin aside, he turns and offers it to Morgana. She looks at him, and the sick sensation grows. Yet she refuses the offer. He knows that she must drink it, she must somehow give in. He moves his thoughts from the poison to the simple task of getting her to drink from the skin. It is easier that way – he can push the guilt away and let it settle rather than burn in the forefront of his mind. Taking a chance, he moves across the room, stopping only to hand the water skin to her. She puts it aside and returns to her task. He cannot bear it. He just wants it to be over, just wants it to be done, so he does not have to feel it anymore, does not have to worry about it anymore.

He thinks on how to get her to drink it, to swallow the toxin and end the siege, save Camelot and its prince. As he returns across the room, he picks it up and turns his back to Morgana, pretends to drink. He offers it again, and she turns him down. Loathing gathers in him at himself when he makes an excuse, one that he knows she cannot refuse. He hopes beyond all hope that she will turn it away, or somehow see his actions on his face.

But no. She smiles, reaches for it, presumably thinking that his worried eyes, shaking hands, and overly sweaty and red face are due to their situation and the disease taking over Camelot. Merlin doesn't know how she could do that, where she got the skills or the inclination, but he knows that there is no choice. If the spell lives in her as the Dragon said it did, then there is no other answer.

Her gray eyes, desperate at their trapped situation, meet his and soften at the false kindness she sees as real. Her fingers grip the fur and he relinquishes it. He despises himself, he detests what he has been lowered to, and for one anguished second he wants to reach out, knock it away from his friend's mouth, save her no matter the cost. She is beautiful, he knows it, a part of him loves her deeply, more than anyone else, but that part never had the chance to surface. In that one second, where his eyes are attached to hers, he sees the future that he is killing with her.

The drink is raised and the deadly draught is taken. He turns, unable to watch, unable to bear what he has done. Tears gather in his eyes. One rolls down his cheek. He hears Morgana cough. The sound rips through his soul like he thought nothing ever could. The cloth tearing stops and he knows she's putting the pieces together.

So he turns. Her hand is at her throat, clutching at it like she can pull the poison out, like she can save herself and stop the choking. The betrayal that consumes her eyes kills him. Merlin wants to be dead, rather than have had to have made that decision, rather than face those eyes. More than the betrayal is the fear, the absolute terror that is overtaking her. Death looms above her, dealt by her own friend, whom she had trusted with her life many times before. He feels the betrayal like he was the one betrayed. In the end though, it will be he that lives and she that dies.

All he can do is reach for her. She pushes at him, accusation smothered by panic as she gasps. Her breathing gets more difficult and she loses the ability or the will to keep him at bay. He does not know; he does not care. All he wants is to hold her and reassure her that she will be okay, no matter that nothing will ever be okay again. He catches her as she falls, holds her against his lap, rocking gently. Tears continue to pool in his eyes. He loathes himself for doing this, for choosing Arthur over her.

Morgana's breathing is so labored and painful that Merlin can almost feel it himself as her throat closes up and air is stolen from her lungs. Her fingers clutch at his clothing, gripping tightly as pure fear overtakes her. He holds her, swaying soothingly, unable to look at her, even the top of her head. Instead, he casts his eyes to the heaven, praying to every god he can think of to save her, to stop what he put in motion. The thought that he has done this, he brought about the death of one of his best friends in the world is eclipsed by the one fervent desire that runs through his mind, throwing out the wish that she be saved. All he wants is for it to end. It was something he never imagined thinking about anyone, especially about someone he loves. But the thought comes from a place of love, true, deep, abiding love.

_ Please die. Please, just let her die. I can't bear her pain anymore, I cannot even bear my own. Die. Please. Let this be over. I need her to die._

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><p><strong>I hope you liked it. Please review – your thoughts are highly appreciated! Part Two: Morgana is coming soon!<strong>


	2. Part II: Morgana

AS SHE LIES DYING

PART TWO: MORGANA

She starts to rip the cloth to strips, the rending sound filling the hall and echoing off the empty walls. In truth, she doesn't really know why she is doing it, except that she doesn't want to die. Fear, perhaps plays a part, as well love of a type. It is hard to despise those she has loved for so long. She hates Uther, hates what he has become and what he was trying to make her, but if she refuses she would arouse the suspicions of Arthur and Merlin. They wouldn't understand, loyal to Uther as they are. And she does not want to die. If those men came through the door, if they found her, she might well be at more risk than all the others who had fallen under the spell. Awake as she is, they may see her as a threat and end her life then rather than let her live.

Merlin turns around and offers her the water skin, pushing it at her. There is a strange, intense look in his eyes, but her mind attributes it to the sickness that seems to be taking root in everyone but herself. She refuses, but he hands it to her anyway. She cannot drink; the bleak, bare future is all that she can see ahead. There is no way to get out of the hall, and Arthur will risk himself for his father. He is risking himself. The skin lies discarded beside her as she returns to her task.

He returns, picks up the skin, turns his back to her. She pays no attention, continuing to rip the cloth, lost in her own thoughts. She doesn't know what is happening, why she is the only one awake. It scares her. Perhaps it is a symptom of her magic, and she desperately fears being discovered. The king would make no exception for her if he found that she held magic, that she was a witch. She does not want to die. She wants to help Morgause free Camelot from Uther's evil clutches. She wants to make a difference.

He interrupts her thoughts and offers the water again, saying that he wants her to have some before he finishes it. Smiling, she takes it. He is just being kind, being the boy she has known. Her throat is dry, she realizes, and if they escape water will be needed to keep up her energy. For a second there is another intense look in his eyes, set in his red and sweating face. His hands shake as he releases the skin to her. The disease. It is capturing him as well, stealing him away from her. Her immunity perplexes her, makes her fearful. She thrusts those thoughts away as well and pops the cork from the top with a slow, hollow sound.

The water feels good as it runs down her throat, wetting parched skin. The taste is a little unusual, but that is always to be expected of water from skins, she thinks. Her hands return to her task for another second before the feeling begins. She puts a hand to her throat and coughs, but it does nothing to dispel the odd sensation.

Then it grows stronger and she stops ripping, putting both hands to her smooth neck. Something is not right, there is something wrong with her. Her heart feels lethargic – like a vine is filling her trachea, bocking the air, extending down to her heart and slowing the steady pump that should be strong. Her eyes focus on the water skin and the knowledge comes to her. It was poisoned. She doesn't know how she knows this, but it is certain.

Morgana looks at him, still with his back to her. One hand is brought to his face, as though wiping a tear away. Then he turns. The truth is evident in his eyes, guilty and regretful and deeply sorry, deeply pained, but to some extent as though he feels that it was necessary. Betrayal fills the empty cavity that has become her soul, mingled with pure disbelief. She doesn't know how Merlin could do this to her; she doesn't understand.

She was his friend, he was hers. He knew her secret, he helped her find the Druids and protected her from Uther's wrath despite what would happen to him if she was discovered. Some part of her loved him, his bright eyes and dark hair, the ears that stuck out comically from his head. She doesn't understand why he would kill her, why he would do that. How he could even think of it. Perhaps he thought she was a threat to Camelot and had been looking for a way to dispose of her. Perhaps he had become Uther's man through and through. The attack was the perfect cover.

He reaches for her, but she pushes him away, the feeling of the creeping vine cutting off her air as she gasps for breath. The breaths are hard and sharp, cutting past the growing toxin and wheezing into her lungs. But it is not enough. She is losing feeling in her legs, her strength declining.

He grabs at her when she cannot hold him off, and she cannot support herself as she starts to collapse. Where she expects to meet the floor, there is Merlin instead. She is cradled in his lap, and he slowly rocks her back and forth as though he wants to sooth her, ease her passage somehow.

The feeling of leaves in her windpipe expands. Morgana clutches at him, sheer panic consuming her. The knowledge that she is going to die, that she is dying, grips her mind. Pure terror burns its way through her, fueling her ever-slowing struggles. Her body revolts against the poison, one hand at her neck like she can rip the venom from her frame and throw it away, somehow save her life. She clings to him, his arms holding her strongly, securely against his warm body. She cannot feel anything except panic and betrayal, she cannot think but one thought. It overwhelms her mind.

_ I am dying. I am going to die. Merlin killed me, he is killing me. I am dying. I don't want to die. I don't want to die. Please. Don't let me die._

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><p><strong>Please review – I would like to know what you think. Thank you for reading!<strong>


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